Alphaville

Alphaville
**/5
by Jean-Luc Godard

To be honest, I didn't like Alphaville very much at all. I felt very mistrustful of the film: it seemed to be making fun of me.

It was constructed with all of these “genre” elements: a spy, a femme fatale, a superintelligent computer, a secret organization, etc. but separated them from any of the style or artistry that actual genre films often contain. The bare plot devices were pasted together, which I felt created quite a misrepresentation of the source material. It was as if the film was intended to expose the flaws of the films it derived itself from, and, by proximity, those who enjoy such films, which seemed like a rather immature and cynical venture.

Besides that, there were some scenes that did not really blend with the others (like the fight scene in the hotel room near the beginning), and the whole thing was devoid of any kind of dramatic tension. Events just sort of played out until the end. And by the end, you realize that this film also states that love is among those preposterous things that only happens in movies.

The stylistic decisions that were added onto this strange film were ones that I just didn't get. The two second long interludes of neon signs and things speeding by or flashing seemed to be some kind of visual metaphor, the meaning of which escaped me. The distant and sterile mood of the film coupled with incredibly long handheld takes just exhausted me. I felt cut off from the characters, but also unpleasantly trapped. If this is what was intended, I fail to see why.

It is quite possible I'm missing something here, but if I am, isn't it a problem that the point wasn't made clear?

La Fille d'Eau

La Fille d'Eau
*****/5
Jean Renoir

I got a whole box set of Renoir films for my birthday that I'm just now getting around to watching. This is the first one, from 1925, and in fact, it was Renoir's first solo directing role. It seems Renoir has been making incredible films since the beginning. The story, as with most good films, is simple. A girl's father dies, and when her uncle treats her horribly, she runs away and falls in with some bad people until she can be redeemed. However, this is barely the surface of what it is like to watch this film. My history teacher, Gene Stavis said the other day, “The story is less than 50% of what a film is about.” I could not agree more. This film, ridiculously retitled Whirlpool of Fate for America, has so much more going on. It is a complete coalescence of the state of film up to that point, in much the same way people mention Citizen Kane being. However, Citizen Kane blends its ideas much more smoothly than this film does, although the chunkiness here does not really detract. There are scenes of Russian montage, and a magnificent nightmare sequence that has got to be one of the best dreams committed to film. You can see more than a little of this dream in the films of Jean Cocteau. La Fille d'Eau is shot mostly on location, with the scenes on the water being the absolute best. Look for (although I don't think you'll miss it) the shot where a man walks in place along the top of a moving barge. Also when the girl is sitting on the barge's rudder, the camera is on the other end, which keeps her in the middle of the frame as she swings on it and moves the whole background. The effect is simply incredible.

Recommendations
Anything by Jean Renoir or Jean Cocteau

Le Corbeau

Le Corbeau
*****/5
Henri-Georges Clouzot

The French continue to casually make beautiful films with important social messages. I guess not "continue" since this film is from the '40s, but "consistently".

The story is of an anonymous informant who sends exposing letters to every person in a small town. The infrastructure and relationships crumble as treachery and secrets come to light. The mystery of "Who is 'Le Corbeau'?" is not nearly as thrilling as the human drama, which explores how easily people can be swayed to keep themselves safe. It was made as a response to the occupation of France, and therefore the comments are rather subtle, but not easy to miss.

I first thought of recommending The Exterminating Angel, which is one of my favorite films ever, but I'm not sure if that is the strongest connection I can make. Apparently, Godard's Weekend was inspired by The Exterminating Angel, so maybe I'll save the recommendation for that.

Le Samouraï

Le Samouraï
*****/5
Jean-Pierre Melville

*******SPOILERS********

This is certainly one of my favorite films that I have seen this year. Meticulously crafted by Melville to exemplify his concept of the gangster, this film has an amazing sense of depth. The camera work is beyond compare. Watch for the camera as Jef's eyes in the first nightclub scene. Also watch for the continuity of the workman's light in the garage reflecting off Jef's car.

Alain Delon is very powerful in this role, conveying emotions with the slightest flinch of his face (see the 2nd car stealing scene - the disappointment on his face when the first key doesn't work.) He is the very model of Melville's gangster - cool, controlled, wearing a pale raincoat, and having a sixth sense for danger and plots. Beyond this facade, we get a view into Jef's personal life. He has nothing except for a bird, a place to sleep, and the materials to dress a wound. His kitchen is in his bathroom, his drawers are empty. In order to become a staunch contract killer, one must relinquish everything. This is an idea reflected in Melville's Army of Shadows, which I had the pleasure of seeing during its 2006 first American theatrical release. In that film, Mathilde is warned that her connection to her family will be her downfall, and it is. That is another film for review, although, considering how emotional I'm getting just thinking about it, I might not be up to the challenge.

One problem I have with this film is not with the film itself, but how people will describe it. "A hitman, Jef Costello..." "A contract killer..."
The fact that Jef is a contract killer is not something the audience knows for about 30 minutes. He gets out of bed. He puts on his hat. He steals a car. He sets up his alibi. He kills a man. He is seen. He is questioned, questioned, questioned. He is released. He evades the police tail. He goes to an elevated train station. Only at this point do we find out why he even did it. It's part of the genius of the film. Taking tips from Hitchcock (as Melville often did), the film gives us our murderer as our sympathetic character. We know he did it, but we don't know why. Once we find out, it seems so natural - we've seen him try to avoid capture the entire movie. So people don't even remember there was a point at which the audience did not know Jef's nature. It spoils the surprise.

My production teacher, Zoran, gave a talk about Melville's films last year. He made an interesting observation. In Melville, the relationship between the criminal and police is always stronger than the relationships shared with women. It is a much different approach than American pictures. Even in a noir crime film, the man takes the case for the girl.

Another thing that makes this film incredible is its tightness. Every location is revisited, allowing the audience to comfortably observe and be drawn in by the characters, instead of trying to figure out how close this place is to another, etc. The metro chase scene was another revisitation, this time from a film I can't remember the name of. But a man is taking various buses along the countryside, the signposts visible behind him in every shot. The flaw with this is you have to already be familiar with France's geography to understand. Melville learned from this, and in Le Samourai, provides a map. Even the cars that Jef steals are echoed, only the second one is black, indicating that he is without hope. With Melville, nothing is accidental. Zoran points out that Melville often includes a "mark of death" in his films - the point at which the audience can be certain the character will not succeed. After stealing the black car, Jef agrees that he will not come back to the garage anymore. He knows and we know that his time is up. This is precision that one does not find in many other filmmakers' work.

The last thing I will say about Le Samourai (besides WATCH IT) is a comment and theory on the opening shot. The camera is still, distant, and objective as the credits roll over the shot. It is a bedroom. Not until the man in the bed takes a drag on his cigarette do you even notice he was there. You wonder how you could have missed him. The credits end. Suddenly, the camera starts rocking back and forth in a dolly zoom (commonly called the "Psycho Shot", even though it actually was invented for Vertigo). The frame appears to widen and deepen all at once. Then it stops, leaving you with an optical illusion of a stretched room. Then, the man gets off the bed.

Now this is the strangest shot in the film. It doesn't seem to have a clear motivation or explanation. I was thinking about the nature of the dolly zoom. Typically it is employed to be the cinematic equivalent of a sinking feeling in your stomach. In Vertigo, it is used when Scottie looks down the staircase, and becomes terrified at the height. In Jaws, it is used when Chief Brody realizes the entire beach is in immediate danger. Perhaps, in Le Samourai, this shot is the same, although its purpose is obscured by the distant, objective camera. As Jef lays on the bed, he gets a sinking in his stomach. It is his criminal's sixth sense telling him that today something will go wrong.
Just my thoughts on that opening shot.
Although it does pose the question of turning objective and subjective shots into each other. I would say going from subjective to objective is much easier. In Lost, it happens all the time. A character turns his head to see something, cut to a shot that pans to match his head movement and show what he sees, character enters the frame at the end of the pan. It's interesting. It is also done in Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors, which is one of my favorite movies ever. I also saw that in the theater, with a nice new film print.
But how do you go from objective to subjective? I suppose you could move the camera like it's someone walking, but that's awfully corny. Perhaps the realization of subjectivity can come in the following shot, but I feel it would be easy to miss that. (Example: Wide shot down a narrow hallway. Cut to a man looking around the corner of the hallway. Wouldn't it just seem like the shot of the man was a shot of the man? This is an interesting question about film grammar.)

Perhaps I will experiment with this idea a little and see where it takes me.

Recommendations:
Army of Shadows
Le Circe Rouge

Hiroshima Mon Amour

Hiroshima Mon Amour
*****/5
Alain Resnais

Clearly this film influenced Breathless in the editing and other aspects, although they are two vastly different movies. As Stu put it, the French "get away with murder" when it comes to dialogue. This film amounted to a conversation that was circular and poetic, splashed with images that support or contrast the statements. It gave me such a strange feeling, and I think that was intended. The filmmaker bombards you with opinion and at the same time says nothing to prove one reality over another. At the end, you feel a crushing realization that works as deeply whether you take it metaphorically or not.

I was speaking with Maher this afternoon and was laying out some of my feelings towards films, what I appreciate in contrast to what turns me off. I came to some sort of point about the difference between films that affect your mind, your heart, and your gut. I think I tend to put the mind last when prioritizing these things for myself. Perhaps words affect the mind, images affect the heart, and connotations affect the gut.
Of course this made me think of Werner Herzog, who is probably one of the best filmmakers ever, and certainly one of the best working today. Herzog's films affect your gut first with situations and deep, deep emotions. Even if you watched his films on mute, you feel them in your gut. From your gut they work up and grab your heart. And from there they move to your brain, which tries to make sense of your feelings.

Hiroshima Mon Amour works along these lines as well. Even as dialogue heavy as it is, the story is told through images. The dialogue is almost like a soundtrack for connotations. Less than leaning on for story purposes, the French use voiceover as sort of a mood setter, to capture your attention by insisting on too much information or statements that are vague and poetic. But they never distract, which American voiceovers do. Perhaps French voiceovers are less expository than they seem.

All in all, I think I prefer Hiroshima Mon Amour's ambitions to that of Breathless, but perhaps this will change with time.

Recommendations:
Breathless

La Bête Humaine

La Bête Humaine
*****/5
Jean Renoir

*****SPOILERS*****

Update: I apologize for my total blabbering about how good this movie is. I was rendered completely inarticulate and sound like a total moron.

Amazing amazing. There is a lot to be loved in this film. Starting with the writing which is so good. The wad of cash is established so early, but returns so many times. The murder is preceded by a failed attempt, forcing the audience to feel the buildup and tension twice for the same thing. Actions and motivations are established so, so clearly that you only need to see them once to understand your character at every turn. The beginning is a little rushed and a lot of characters are named before they are introduced, but not enough to be played as a reveal when they show up. But once it is all there, it builds into something so intense and beautiful that anything awkward in the beginning is likely to be deepened upon a second or third viewing.

Also of note are the visual juxtapositions. A photograph of Severine's godfather is used in contrast to his presence several times, his arm around her implying more and more each occurrence. The scene near the end which features the singer performing a song about a wily, fickle temptress with no attachments is an interesting predecessor to Kenneth Anger's use of pop music.

Being familiar with Hitchcock's oeuvre, it amazes me how much it seems ideas were being passed back and forth between him and those involved in (and before) the French New Wave. They loved him as a shining example of both their auteur theory and what was wrong with films. This film features a murder in the first act (on a moving train, no less!), scenes in a crowded ballroom, a femme fatale, shots along train tracks, stylized sound, expressionistic lighting, and extreme tension, both visually and plot-wise. Some of these ideas were not present in Hitchcock's work until after this film was made. Others were present earlier with greater execution. Others were present earlier and much weaker. Others were present earlier, made stronger in France, and returned to Hitchcock's control later.

Recommendations:
Young and Innocent
Blackmail
Scorpio Rising

Port of Shadows

Port of Shadows
****/5
Marcel Carne

The handling of multiple characters is astoundingly accomplished. Each character with dialogue is somehow tenderly developed within minutes, and as a result, no characters blend together. They can even leave the screen for large chunks of time and drop back in easily. Important events are all preceded by a small setup that allows you to recognize the action, no matter how small, at the point it is important (eg: Lucien picking off the hats of others in the bumper car ride). Even with this skilled storytelling, the writing is what falls short the most (apart from the acting from Pierre Brasseur), with characters announcing things the audience has already figured out. Zabel declares his motivations long after they were implied; the painter explains his entire character to people who already know him. The dialogue is often corny and sometimes I wonder if I would like certain foreign films as much if they were in English.

Shameful Neglect and A New Chapter

I'm pretty pathetic when it comes to updating.

Since the last time I've posted, I have been trying to fill some of the holes in my film knowledge. The New Wave, on either side of the Atlantic, has been pretty neglected, so I dug into that and others. I don't think it's possible to really document the volumes of films I've watched, but I can rattle off some big ones that I had not already seen.

Bonnie and Clyde
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Serpico
The 400 Blows
nearly all of Jean-Pierre Melville's catalog (Le Samourai being the most outstanding)
nearly all of Terry Gilliam's catalog (Brazil and 12 Monkeys being the ones not to avoid entirely)
about 7 or 8 Ingmar Bergman films
Cocteau's Orphic Trilogy
Late Spring
Le Bete Humaine


I'll spare you a recitation of my Netflix account history, and I will probably make separate entries for the ones that affected me most deeply.

I also saw some bad movies, Public Enemies, and Christopher Nolan's first film Following come to mind. Perhaps they deserve their own entries as well.

I have also been reading up on different facets of filmmaking. I think for the interest of cohesion, I will give that its own post also. Who would have thought all these posts! But as I enter into my first year of film school (next week) I think it will be beneficial to keep a record of my thoughts on films and other things. I will be seeing a lot of films and be given a lot of information. Perhaps I can use this newfangled blog thing to keep my head straight.

Last, but not least, I have been watching tons and tons of anime. There are some very strange trends in anime right now. Definitely my current favorite is Fight Ippatsu! Juuden-Chan!! It's a bizzare parody that borders on pornagraphic but with the most biting humor I've ever seen. It plays on expectations ("Maybe it's because Mom's watching over me from above. Just kidding!") and gives gratuitous fan-service, and still manages to dish out one of the most compelling plots a short series has offered in a long time. Not recommended for people unfamiliar with anime stereotypes or without a working knowledge of Sailor Moon or La Blue Girl. Ohhhh man, I can't wait til next week.